March 27, 2007

As winter sleeks away with spring rains, thoughts of reading in parks and beaches burble forth. There are tools required to make the action right. Start with the Coleman blanket.

With wine or ice tea, armed with Twain, Cervantes, Wharton or Bronte, packing pens and notebooks, there you have most of what you need. Needed more, and especially, though, is a blanket. Bring at least the book and the blanket, and you are geared and ready for reading.

Bring, too, your kindest friend or sweetest lover, and find room enough for two for leisured reading and wine sipping.

Find a tree big enough for shade, small enough to let light flicker through, and unfurl the blanket. Watch where the sun is going, and position your blanket accordingly. Let the shade follow you. A bright glare on Huck Finn will not do him, nor you, any good.

The blanket is also a poncho and stadium seat cushion, but, properly folded or wrapped, all blankets show the same versatility.

What matters is that under a budding tree in March through September, on sunny mornings and overcast afternoons, this blanket connects you with a friend, and your book.

Cups on a Shelf

I am Brockeim.
Faceless.
Shameless.
Timeless.
Stunningly literate,
thoroughly competent,
yet everything you think I'm not.
I stand in front
of statues and laugh,
but in their shadow,
I avoid the harsh sunlight.
Reduced often to mediocrity,
I wander looking for that sunlight
so I can again find shade.